It's a woman in what appears to be a Santa costume, the red velvet stark against the snow. Despite myself, my gaze lingers for a moment before I pull back slightly from the window, irritation mixing with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
What is a woman doing up here?
Dressed as…
Santa?
The woman rises, clutching two wrapped gifts topped with big red bows, balancing like a deer on ice as she positions the ridiculous Santa hat on her head.
She slips and wobbles as she makes her way toward the cabin, and my heart rate increases.
What the fuck is she doing here? Don’t people have anything better to do?
I stomp to the door, irritation sweeping through me when I hear her knocking.
Why can’t everyone leave me in peace?
Every Christmas my niece comes and tries to play happy families, but I’m not interested.
I learned that lesson the hard way—let people in, and they leave. Or worse, they stay too long, and you watch them get hurt. Either way, you end up alone, so I might as well start there.
If it was up to me, I’d never see anyone again as long as I lived.
I’ve seen enough to last me a lifetime.
My breath catches at the images that haunt me, and I shake my head, teeth grinding at the thought of this unwanted visitor having triggered them.
I rip open the door as she stumbles forward, nearly losing her balance. She catches herself, adjusting her costume with embarrassment. My eyes remain fixed on her face.
Fucking hell.
"Dammit!" She steadies herself, flustered.
Then she opens that cherry-red mouth and starts belting out “Jingle Bells.”
Fuck. This.
Slam.
The closed door effectively silences her cheery if slightly off-key voice, and I stalk back to my seat by the fire, trying to fathom what I just saw.
Acres of creamy cleavage that matches those thighs, and wide eyes that resemble the reflection of the lake in deep winter.
Jesus, that body… I’ve got no business thinking about it. Not at forty years old and her standing there in striped socks and a damn Santa dress.
I shake my head, refusing to entertain the idea of getting horny over some woman trying to deliver gifts I haven’t ordered.
To my disbelief, she raps on the dooragain.
Even in this weather, she’sstilltrying to do her job.
“Red, I’m here to deliver gifts. Could you please open the door? It’s freezing out here.” Her voice is melodic, and the wind tries to help me by carrying it further away. If only it could lift her too.
I hate that she knows my fucking name.
“Go away!” I snarl, annoyed that she hasn’t left already. Most people get the message when I either don’t answer or slam the door in their face.
WhydidI answer anyway?
